Massacre at the Hotel Rio
by Unknown Marauder
Summary: What happened at the Hotel Rio that we didn't see? And what about that one worker whom Alucard charmed? Rated T for mild language and for violence.


**A/N: Warning: This story contains violence, blood, some slight awkwardness between guys. If you don't like, don't read. **

**This takes place in Manga Volume 3, at the Hotel Rio. For a quick explanation, Every time 'J.H. Brenner' is mentioned, it's Alucard. Pablo MacTorney is a name I gave the random hotel assistant.**

**WwWwWwWw**

Massacre at the Hotel Rio

Rio de Janeiro was being smiled upon once again by the magnificent, God-given sun. That is the description of every day in the Brazilian capital, just ask the Hotel Rio's junior assistant Pablo MacTorney. All red hair, blue eyes and freckles, this young man was always at the check-in counter. The reason? Pablo always smiled and, unknown to him, the Hotel made good money thanks to that smile.

Today, of course, was no exception. While his stoic co-workers stood at attention on either side of him, Pablo took on a slightly more relaxed pose, smiling and daydreaming… smiling and daydreaming…

He snapped to attention though, dream dispersed by smile still remaining, when the doors to the Hotel Rio was opened by the hand of an incoming customer. The man was… bizarre in appearance, but not unpleasant. Alabaster skin and long ebony hair… dressed from head to toe in black despite the heat outside. Just looking at this attire made Pablo sweat and thank whoever it was who built the hotel that they included air conditioning.

The man walked up to the check-in counter and stopped in front of Pablo, eyes that the assistant knew were sizing him up hidden behind orange spectacles. For a moment, Pablo couldn't help but liken the man to Ozzy Osborne and, had his formal position not forbidden it, the ginger-haired man would have addressed him as such. There was a brief moment o silence before the guest spoke.

"I have a reservation for a suite…" His voice was dark…. smooth and rich like chocolate or good coffee and, in Pablo's mind, fit the eccentric man perfectly. The attendant flipped through the list of reservations. Suites… He found the reservation quickly.

"Yes, sir. Your suite is on the top floor." Pablo scanned the reservation listing again. He needed a name to fit with the deep voice and orange shades. "Mr. J.H. Brenner?" He looked up at the man for confirmation, smiling as he did so. "We were told to expect you."

Pablo's smile widened a little and, to his surprised, J.H. Brenner smiled as well. It was a charming, soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. None the less, it was captivating, and Pablo was lost in it until a new voice caught his ear. It was thick and French and the red-haired man didn't like it at all.

"Oiii, in 'ere! Zees way!" the man with the French accent said, dressed in white and with blond hair, the almost complete opposite of the refined, elegant J.H. Brenner. Mr. Brenner turned to look at the shouting French man as two large boxes were brought into the hotel lobby. Pablo eyed the large luggage with surprise and worry. Should he object?

"A suite on the top floor," he informed the French man, who relayed the directions to the men carrying the large boxes. Pablo couldn't allow this… it was against Hotel policy.

"S-Sir!" he stuttered, almost afraid to speak out against the handsomely dark man on the other side of the counter. "We can't have you keeping such large luggage…"

Mr. "Brenner" glanced at Pablo through the side of his glasses. "There is no problem," he said coolly, not liking being reprimanded. The young man gulped. Were his eyes… red? Or was it a trick thanks to the abnormal color of his glasses?

_But the policy… _"Yes, sir, there is," Pablo objected, trying to appear as though he had a backbone and respect for the rules in the face of this situation. "Something of that size in the hotel…"

J.H. Brenner turned to face the young man and chuckled, removing his glasses. Pablo gave a small gasp. His eyes really were red. How… odd... yet fitting of this elegant, dark man who now laughed at him. A white gloved hand reached out from beneath the black coat which Brenner wore, slowly extending out towards Pablo's face. Instinctively, the young man leaned back, but not in time, and far too slowly.

Pablo opened his mouth to speak out against this, but he was silenced by Brennan's crimson gaze. It was by this gaze that he was held captive as Brannan's index finger rested in between his eyes.

"There is no problem," Brenner said, his voice low, seductive… hypnotic. The closeness… the _intimacy_ of the moment sent Pablo into a cold sweat. He felt a shiver go down his spine as Brenner's fingers traced down the bridge of his nose and rested lightly on his lips.

"There. Is. No. Problem." The words were stiff and robotic, and anyone who knew Palo would have easily known that these were not his own words. The perspiration on his face had increased, and Brenner smiled, his red gaze never wavering as he pulled away from the young man behind the check-in counter. "There is no problem."

"No problem… none at all…" Pablo's reply was still robotic, but the goofy smile on the hypnotized man made many look the other way. After all, Pablo always smiled.

Brenner smiled and turned his back to the counter, walking away, talking to the French man as he did so. One of the stoic hotel personnel who had witnessed the scene frowned and walked up to the junior assistant who was snapping out slowly from his momentary hypnosis. He talked to Pablo and some hushed words were exchanged before the two left the check-in counter.

Pablo was lead to the 'break room', their small back room with a coffee maker and a miniature refrigerator. There was also a small table and a lamp, but nothing else. The luxuries were for the guests, not workers. The fellow worker motioned for Pablo to sit down and grabbed two sodas from the miniature refrigerator, one for each.

"Look, Pablo. I know you're new and young and susceptible to influence," the man said, opening his soda can with a loud _crack_, "but you can't let it interfere with your job. That man who you were just talking to-"

"J.H. Brenner," Pablo interjected, his own drink untouched. "He has a suite on the top floor…"

"I know. I heard you tell him," the man said calmly. "But listen to me now. I don't care about your… personal life. God knows that I don't judge people, after all. In fact, my brother's best friend is the same way. That was awkward, I'll admit…"

Pablo tilted his head to the side, not quite understanding. "Marcus… what are you talking about?"

Marcus, the other man, sighed and shook his head. "You aren't the first person who's worked at the Hotel Rio who likes other men, Pablo. Don't be ashamed-"

The junior attendant slammed a fist down on the table, appalled at his fellow worker's accusation. "I am not gay, Marcus! _Damn_ it, why does everyone think that? I have a _girlfriend_, we're _engaged_. She's in Buenos Aires visiting her mother right now. You can call her, I have her number right here!"

"Pablo…_ Pablo_… _Stop!_" Marcus's voice was firm, but not loud. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. It's just that when you were talking to Mr. Brenner you seemed enthralled, like you were in a trance. You're possibly the most loyal man I know, Pablo. Keep your girl close, and don't let yourself fall for that Brenner guy."

Pablo glared at the top if his unopened soda can. He didn't remember staring at the dark man in awe. All he had done was check the man in, and then they had a small discussion about his luggage, and then he left. What was Marcus talking about?

The other worker stood and grabbed a permanent marker, writing his name on the side of the soda can before setting it back in the refrigerator. "Take a break, kid. Go back out when you're ready. I'll cover for you, alright?"

"No… no, I'm alright. I'll go back out there. It's my job, not yours."

**WwWwWwWwWw**

Screams filled the hallways of the Hotel Rio that night as one of the Room service girls was struck down, shot through the stomach by a gun so powerful, it practically rendered her in two. Pablo gave a shout of fear, ducking back behind the corner. That girl, Fontana, had joined on the exact same day he had. They had been friends, and now she lay dead and bleeding on the plush carpet.

Pablo couldn't exactly say how everything had started. He had been walking the hallway, going to the suite where J.H. Brenner was located. Standard check-up on the wealthier customers was common at the Hotel Rio. The doors of the elevator opened and everything seemed fine. Then, the stench of iron came to the young man's nose… the air stank of spilt blood… and a lot of it.

That was when he saw the first body… and then the fifth… and soon the twentieth, which he identified as Marcus. Blood soaked into the once rich green carpet, and it squished sickeningly beneath his feet. Every corpse looked as though they were drained of blood through large, gaping holes in their necks. Some were even decapitated. There were only twenty three people on staff at this time of night… and only three were left alive.

When Fontana ran around the corner, screaming for Pablo to follow suit, she told him that some man, some crazy man wielding a large black gun, dressed in red, was doing all this. He heard her say 'terrorist', and then the dark laugh of their hunter rounded the corner. Fontana stopped running. Pablo didn't. She screamed, and then the shot was fired.

There was the sickening sound of something sucking up the newly spilt blood from the carpet, and Pablo peeked around the corner. Lapping up the spilt blood was, just as Fontana warned, a madman in red. But his long black hair made him familiar and, when the monster looked up, Pablo screamed in terror at his red eyes.

Brenner!

Pablo was frozen for a second, but began to run back to the elevator, trying to escape. But then again, if Brenner was fast, he could beat the doors, and that would leave the hapless young man stuck in an elevator with a murderer! A few tears leaked from the young man's blue eyes. He didn't want to die! Not now! But everyone else was dead except one… what other choice besides to die did he have?

He spied a door that lead off to the ice room. There, Pablo realized, would be a phone. The young man, despite the circumstances, smiled. The police would be able to get reinforcements here… they could take Brenner down! Pablo skidded into the room, the blood on the bottoms of his shoes making him slide on the sudden linoleum. Quickly, he picked up the phone and pounded in the number for the Brazilian police.

"Hola? Hola? Habla Engles? Si? Oh thank god," Pablo panted, glad that he could get possibly the one operator who could speak English. "My name's Pablo MacTorney at the Hotel Rio. Yes, that one. Ma'am, there's only one Hotel Rio! I don't have time for this. There is a man here, J.H. Brenner; he has a gun- No I don't know what type! Please, everyone's dead! He's a terrorist! A Terrori-"

Pablo's shout was caught in his throat as Brenner entered the small ice room. The man's face was surprisingly clear of blood, despite his abominable meal. In his right hand was a large black gun. It was like nothing Pablo had ever seen before! Certainly no normal man could wield such a weapon!

But, then again, Brenner was no normal man.

"Who… who are you?" Pablo screamed, backing away from the phone, whose receiver dangled freely by the cord. A distant sounding 'Hello? Sir? Hello?' came from the device, but was ignored. Brenner grinned from ear to ear, a cruel, sickening smile that revealed sharp teeth and fangs?

Brenner chuckled darkly, much like he had when removing his glasses for the first time. Memories started to flood back to Pablo… so that was what Marcus was talking about! "You don't recognize me? I'm almost hurt," he said, as if amused by the young man's actions. He stopped in front of Pablo, who was backed up against a wall.

Pablo attempted to punch his aggressor, but his hand was swiftly caught by Brenner's empty hand. He gave a pitiful sob, looking away. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

"I'm hungry. Don't I have a right to eat?" Brenner's tone had not changed. He eyed Pablo's neck. Of course, his blood lust was far from satiated. Twenty one humans couldn't quench his thirst. But number twenty two smelled like a virgin… that might help. Brenner's maniac grin turned to a smirk and he let go of his victim's hand. A gloved index finger reached out, resting first between the young man's eyes, then trailing back down to his lips.

"There is no problem… remember?" The large gun, the Jackal's muzzle was placed under Pablo MacTorney's chin.

The young man's eyes turned wide, hypnotized. He gave a goofy smile, unaware suddenly of his danger, of his oncoming death.

"There is… no… problem."

There was the loud shot as the gun was fired, practically blowing off the young man's skull. His body went limp, landing on the floor, and Alucard smiled. Virgin blood, maybe he should leave this one for Seras. It would do her more good.

The vampire's gaze went to the phone, the receiver still hanging limply. Just for good show, he shot that as well. The person on the other end would hear the shot, no doubt. They would send reinforcements. Alucard laughed. This was fun.


End file.
